Personal Narrative: A Voice Again

Walking away from everything you once knew and starting over is never a picnic. Leaving Iraq, and moving to America has impacted my life more than anything. I was only 4 years old at that time, and the only English I spoke was “excuse me, water please.” My family and I did not know it then, but our lives were going to change; we would become “Americanized”. Learning English was one of the massive changes that occurred, the way I dressed (culture), and even the way I had power to go to school and educate myself.

When I walked into the store, I was greeted by the sales associate, Cathy. She came over and asked me how she can help me today. I replied that I was looking for a new mattress and was told by a co-worker that they had a new Sleep Number bed and I was interested in finding out about them. The associate asked me about my current mattress and what I was looking for in a new mattress. After I answered her questions, she led me over to the demonstration mattress and asked me to lie down. She gave me the demonstration and then asked me to come over to the m7 mattress and lie down on that mattress. The associate then demonstrated the adjustable frame of the m7. She then gave me the laminated pricing sheet and explained that there was a current

Although I have not thought about how I would stage a play I will give myself a chance to thinking thoroughly about how I would want an audience to receive a piece of work written by the four playwrights we have read this semester. Drawing on Wilson’s famous speech, I have an idea about what I would want. The Ground on Which I Stand is one that acknowledges the amazing playwrights we were able to read this semester. I appreciate what they have given to the world through the stage and in print. There have been plays that I resonated with me and some that were harder to grasp. Many of these playwrights talk about connections and family which is a way that I have connected with the characters. I wouldn't use many of the playwrights as influences

I didn’t learn how to read until 2ed grade.Beacuse parents divorced my dad would take me to school some days and my mom would take me others. Little did I know my mom would drink and get high after I went to bed at night. In the morning she would sleep in with a hangover so I got dressed and ready on my own. She would not wake till 11:00 so I would play dolls and watch cartoons all morning. Because of this, I missed about 30% of grades K-3. In 3ed grade me and my dad and stepmom learned of my moms addiction. I stopped seeing my mom for a long time. During that time I discovered the joy of reading. I started later than the others so I ended up at a low reading level but once I learned to read, well, I never stopped.Stories are

I have recently gone through a positive paradigm shift about my race. A paradigm is something that you believe is true, and a paradigm shift is when you change that belief on a topic. Both of these can be positive or negative. When I was younger, I was never proud of my Asian background, and usually embraced my Italian side. One reason was probably because there were few Asians around where I lived or at my school. Many students at my elementary school thought traditional Asian food and culture was bizarre, so I agreed with them, although I didn’t on the inside.

PonyBoy and Darry went to the hospital to visit Johnny. The doctor had gave the boys some great news about Johnny, and said that he was going to be ok as far as the doctors knew. PonyBoy and Darry were so thankful that he was going to be alright after all. The doctor spoke and said, “ You guys are still going to have to take good care of him, make sure he does not smoke. It will damage his system. “ Darry responded, “ Alright doc, i’ll try to. “ After Johnny had got out of the hospital, the guys had met up with the rest of the gang. So they could take Johnny out to eat at dairy queen. Johnny was so thankful and happy that he was with his friends once he got out. He had been through so much pain that all he needed now was his friends

Growing up with a father in the military, you move around a lot more than you would like to. I was born just east of St. Louis in a city called Shiloh in Illinois. When I was two years old my dad got the assignment to move to Hawaii. We spent seven great years in Hawaii, we had one of the greatest churches I have ever been to name New Hope. New Hope was a lot like Olivet's atmosphere, the people were always friendly and there always something to keep someone busy. I used to dance at church, I did hip-hop and interpretive dance, but you could never tell that from the way I look now.

i apologized about this , I didn't realize it was that many hours he, but I know there would be some over time this week we had couple of incident , the day we had to do Eric and ken write-up I had him site in both , also the Sunday training added to it , he also went over Tuesday when we did the Ops meeting , this is not the norm I will keep the hours in check

There are many avocations that I would chose from. But, more specifically, I would aspire to be a unique, “at home style” photographer. Being able to capture simple moments in a strange place like Elsewhere seems so interesting to do. Each day I would grab my camera, go outside, stroll around and observe nature. I would be able to go outside and capture moments of people, the warm sky, or anything that I would want to. The thing is, there are no limits to photography

Have you ever been so desperate for something that you redevelop your motive in its entirety? Throughout my life I’ve found myself placed in this frightening situation multiple times; the most confusing of which would be what I’ve endured this year. People in their 20s have it rough anyway. We’re old enough to feel like we’re supposed to know what we’re doing, yet young enough to be clueless and it still be acceptable; then there’s those of us who think we’ve got it all figured out only to be proven tremendously wrong. I have learned, however, that being tremendously wrong can lead you right where you need to be.

Reading over your discussion post I have to say I agree with you 100%. Especially when you stated “just because they saw “black” people does not necessarily mean they were from Africa”. My reasoning for agreeing with this statement is because people come in many different shades of colors what made him so sure that they were African? Like I mention in my initial post I believe that his whole theory was based off of assumption. I think if he would’ve had more concrete information it would be more than just a theory.

Music isn’t something that I have ever understood, or have been able to work with. Knowing how hard it is to read notes and play an instrument, I have a great deal of respect for composers, musicians, and artists. This reading had a lot of information on the formation of classical pieces and I struggled to fully understand it as a whole, because of lack of knowledge of the vocabulary used.

Many people never speak out about their abuser. They never find their voice, typically from fear and the control of the abuser. Because of this, many abuse victims go years trapped in their abusive homes. They go years trapped sometimes because they feel as though no one will help them, and they have been told all the while by the abuser that they need the abuser to survive because they would not be able to on their own. I happened to be one of these victims. For many years I was controlled by my abuser through fear, and this fear hid my voice. Over this past summer, I found my voice through courage that I had built up. I thankfully had help through my situation from close friends and family members, unlike with some abuse

I have recently found my voice. It seems ironic to claim that I have known about my voice prior to discovering it, so let me be clear and say that I do not mean I have found a voice or the voice, but rather I found my voice, the voice of authenticity, one that expresses my individuality in a way that is uniquely my own. I have always known about this voice, but dominant narratives stemming from the metaphorical closet dictated what my voice should resemble, which both silenced and misconstrued it. Indeed, finding my voice has been a fundamentally transformative experience, one that allowed me to break free from the metaphorical closet and pursue an authentic life as an openly gay man, and more importantly, myself.

Placing his hands on his knees, he takes a deep breath holds it for a count of seven the breaths to a count of five.. Repeating the routine several times until everyone knows what to do, Sly dismissed the class saying, ”We will start in the morning at nine sharp.”